


- pessimist ( 𝐄.𝐕. )

by dissidentvedder



Series: 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐣𝐚𝐦 [2]
Category: Pearl Jam
Genre: F/M, Pessimist, Pessimistic, Short, imagine, optimist, optimistic, three parts, x Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dissidentvedder/pseuds/dissidentvedder
Summary: a pessimist becomes an optimist.
Relationships: Eddie Vedder/Reader, Eddie Vedder/female!reader
Series: 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐣𝐚𝐦 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731328
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. - pessimist ( 𝐄.𝐕. )

  * a pessimist becomes an optimist.
  * **THIS FIC CONTAINS** slight depression
  * **A/N -** layout by [@adoresobs](https://tmblr.co/mCnsy_bGHrq_QtzAa60SDng)!



> [𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓](https://dissident-vedder.tumblr.com/post/614494030700675072/%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%93%F0%9D%96%99-%F0%9D%96%9B%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%97%F0%9D%96%98-%F0%9D%96%92%F0%9D%96%86%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%99%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%97%F0%9D%96%91%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%99)

  


ever since he learned about his father, eddie has become distant, a wallflower, someone who was part of the group but never in the attention of it. his heart ached for something that was real, something that was created out of truth and honesty, something he could rely on when he needed it. some people noticed the change in his attitude, noticed how the once happy-go-lucky boy was no longer there, possibly dead, long forgotten in a closet full of other masks that were still in the making. 

they noticed his dark undereye circles, the long pause that occured before he answered that question the teacher asked him, the drawn-out sighs when a new sheet of work was placed in front of him. eddie was a smart student, knowing the difference between facts and his principles, virtues, and beliefs, hardworking when it came to what he did. a strong character, making him speak out when he saw injustices being shown, yet he was kind, helping others when they needed it, even if it got him into trouble. that’s just the way he was raised; taught to have a community-based mind instead of a self-indulgent psyche that many around him contained. 

when his history teacher, mr. davis, found out he was living on his own while managing (trying) to balance his work, school, and private life, he offered the young boy a place in his home, knowing eddie was an organized, well-mannered boy who held up his own end and was a quiet, peaceful person, though he did have his (extreme) bursts of energy. his offer was turned down, and the older man’s heart broke when he found out eddie dropped out due to the pressure, and often visited him at the restaurant he worked at, busing tables, and, sometimes, singing for a small crowd. his deep, melancholy voice told stories of hardship, breakthroughs, and sympathy for those troubled, knowing their pain. every song, eddie claimed, was written by him, and his teacher could hear him questioning the higher powers, who really had control of the world, who let it become what it has. eddie still had the dark undereye circles, still had the same faraway look in his eyes, still had the look that he was holding an unbearable weight on his shoulders. he learned that eddie had gotten his _ged_ and was currently signing up for a community college up in chicago, where his mother resided, and was disheartened by the young man’s move. 

_no more eddie, no more songs that spoke to many, no more forced smiles and laughs._

davis hoped he could find someone up there that could help him get him out of the dark pit he had fallen headfirst into. one day, in 1984, when he was eating an eggs and benedict platter at the restaurant, he saw eddie walk in, hand in hand with a woman with [h/c] hair, carrying herself with confidence and grace. he saw that eddie’s contained a smile that was genuine, his eyes bright and aglow, looking at the woman with so much love it seemed like eddie had found the god he was questioning for the previous year.

_perhaps there was a greater power that listened to your silent cries of help._


	2. - optimist ( 𝐄.𝐕. )

  * a pessimist becomes an optimist.
  * **THIS FIC CONTAINS** slight depression
  * **A/N -** layout by [@adoresobs](https://tmblr.co/mCnsy_bGHrq_QtzAa60SDng)!
  * [𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓](https://dissident-vedder.tumblr.com/post/614494030700675072/%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%93%F0%9D%96%99-%F0%9D%96%9B%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%97%F0%9D%96%98-%F0%9D%96%92%F0%9D%96%86%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%99%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%97%F0%9D%96%91%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%99)



  


since meeting [y/n], eddie has become optimistic, his dreary outlook in life changing to what it once was, days seeming brighter and even more clear. he found himself looking forward to getting out of bed, seeing what the day would bring, wondering what kind of surprises life threw at him, hoping they were all good.

without [y/n], he didn’t know what he would be doing. would he still be depressed, living on his own while drowning in bills and unfinished schoolwork? when he moved back up to chicago, he lived in a small, living-room sized apartment near the college he attended and working a part-time job in a drug store, just like in california, when he met her when she went out to get some monthly supplies, smiling brightly as she asked him how he was, noticing his drained, gloomy eyes. she stayed long after she paid, listening to him talk about his troubles, asking him the right questions, and promising to come back the next day if he wanted her to.

he said he did, wanting to see her face again, noticing little imperfections she seemed to not care about. the little pimple that sat on her eyebrow, the small bags under her eyes, the rosiness of her cheeks after coming in from the cold, winter air outside. she was wearing her hair up, a fluffy aviator jacket keeping her warm, and a pair of the mom jeans everyone was crazy for, appearing comfortable in her own skin and warmth. she came back the next day, shortly after her class ended, to talk to him, and still looked at amazing as she did the previous day, yet it was a bit more professional. she wore a pair of baggy, grey pinstriped pants, a white silk button-down shirt, and her hair was done as slick as it could be. she claimed she was studying to be a lawyer, and she, along with the rest of her classmates, went to a court to see how things were run.

“i want to help people,” she said, smiling at him. “i especially want to help people living in abusive households. i want to help those who are being abused by someone they believed they could trust.”

“what made you want to be a lawyer and help them?” dddie remembered asking, and she laughed, shoulders shaking as she looked down, hands in her pockets.

she hummed. “that isn’t my story to tell, it never happened to me, but someone i was close to. i don’t want to exploit her business to someone i just met.” eddie knew what she was talking about and nodded his head in understanding. “What do you want to do, eddie? someone like you should have aspirations in life.” she leaned on the counter, head resting on her hand, elbow placed heavily on the wood. her bright eyes looked at him in curiosity, a small smile on her lips as she waited for his answer.

“what makes you think I have aspirations?”

“i can see it in you,” she answers. “you have that deep longing to get out, do something that will reach others, help them in some way, shape, or form. you don’t want to be a lawyer, however. you seem like the type of person that gets bored a little quickly.” she grabbed his hand, turning it over in hers so she saw his palms, running her fingers along his, feeling them. “from seeing your hands, they’re a little rough, especially at the fingertips, so you must play an instrument. not piano, though… guitar, maybe?” she then runs her fingers down his arm, starting at the shoulder, and stopping at the wrist, feeling the muscle underneath her fingertips. “seeing from your body, you like being active, and your skin says you like being outside… surfing.” she smiles at him, dropping his hand and looking at him, directly in his eye. “your voice is smooth, even, so you must sing during your free time.”

“how’d you know all this?”

“so, I got them right?” eddie nods at her statement, making her smirk, a little chuckle tumbling past her lips. “it’s a party trick i learned a long time ago. see what people’s body looks like and draw hints from there. it’s pretty easy, once you see the common occurrences between certain traits or hobbies.”

“teach me how to do that,” eddie sighs, and [y/n] sucks at breath between her teeth, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

“you seem like an empathic person, eddie, so try it with emotions, instead of hobbies,” she replies, raising an eyebrow. “try drawing on it, as i did with mine. just look at body language, it can help you along the way.” she looks deep into his eyes, the cerulean blue dazzling, the perfect shade that [y/n] found to be mesmerizing. “you know what? next week, somewhere around the 3rd or 4th, would you like to go to dinner with me? we can talk more about ourselves, and i can help you with the party trick.”

“is it a date?”

“if you want it to be.” 


	3. - sanguine ( 𝐄.𝐕. )

  * a pessimist becomes an optimist.
  * **A/N -** layout by [@adoresobs](https://tmblr.co/mCnsy_bGHrq_QtzAa60SDng)!
  * [𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓](https://dissident-vedder.tumblr.com/post/614494030700675072/%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%93%F0%9D%96%99-%F0%9D%96%9B%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%97%F0%9D%96%98-%F0%9D%96%92%F0%9D%96%86%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%99%F0%9D%96%8A%F0%9D%96%97%F0%9D%96%91%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%98%F0%9D%96%99)



  


it has been 35 years since you and Eddie have met, 34 since you’ve began dating, and 24 since you married in rome. the two of you were attached at the hip, two souls always on the same wavelength, two hearts always as in tune as a famous musician’s guitar. you both traveled everywhere, settled in seattle for his job, and you sought a job at a law firm in 1989, despite his protests, him saying he’ll become popular and make enough money to provide you both with a large house, enough food to feed many mouths, and―somewhere down the line―things for children.

since the day you married, eddie’s asked for kids. _didn’t matter the gender,_ he claimed. just as long he got to hold something he helped create out of love, got to teach them the things he’s learned throughout his years, got to see them grow up. it took ten years before you could get pregnant, but now, looking down at your daughters, it was all worth it. they both looked so much like their father, with their bright blue eyes, and light brown hair, they were exact female replicas of him. olivia, your oldest, looked like a mini version of him, high cheekbones, tanned skin, and flat, sculpted eyebrows. 

harper was a miracle child, as your families called her. you had been in your early 40s when you had her, a risky age to get pregnant, yet she came out healthy and screaming at the top of her lungs, and you couldn’t help but cry in relief, hearing her cry like that, realizing that she had a good pair of lungs and a beating heart in her. when they were both born, eddie would hold them for hours on end, not caring if his arms began hurting, working with them in his lap, heads resting against his arm. he would dress up with them, drink the water they said was tea, make them laugh when they were crying, cook for them and make sure they were healthy. god, how he loved them.

olivia became close with chris’ eldest daughter, lily, and they too became attached at the hip. standing backstage in one of eddie’s concerts, your daughters in front of you, olivia holding up her phone as she recorded a video of her father for him to see later, eddie swtiches to _black_ , the beginning notes making you sway in your spot, holding your hand to your heart, smiling at him. it might have been a song about heartbreak, but the day eddie wrote it, he said, “this is what would become of me if you left.” you held him―and the song―close to your heart, knowing that he really loved you, and you him. 

_“i know someday you’ll have a beautiful life,”_ you sang, muttering, following him, your arm going down to pick up harper, placing her on your hip, while the other held onto olivia’s free hand. harper may be nine, but was she as light as a feather. _“I know you’ll be a star,”_ you placed your forehead on hers, looking deep into her eyes as you both smiled at each other. _“in somebody else’s sky, but why, why, why can’t it be, oh, can’t it be mine?”_

eddie was looking at you and your daughters as he sang, heart swelling at the family he helped create. you kissed harper’s forehead, "i love you.”

“i love you too,” she hugged you, small arms wrapping around your neck, her face burying into your head, and you wrapped an arm around olivia, holding her close to your side, her empty arm wrapping around your waist. you turned to look onstage, seeing eddie looking at you with a dreamy look on his face, smiling wide at you when he noticed you looking. he raised his eyebrows and went back to looking at the audience, telling them a small story, raising a bottle of wine to his lips. 


End file.
